


Something That I Want

by neighborhoodninja



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neighborhoodninja/pseuds/neighborhoodninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan can't stand to see Michael being married off right in front of him, so he decides to take things into his own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something That I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm so yeah. 'Tis a bit sappy, tons of dudes crying and acting like girls, but I can picture them doing that right now in my head. They're the cutest. +_+

Ryan gets Michael's phone call on Thursday after breakfast, his morning workout interrupted by Michael's personalized ringtone, which is him screaming "RYAN STEVEN LOCHTE, PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE". Ryan rushes over to his bag with an apologetic smile to everyone within a fifty foot radius and hurriedly jams his finger onto "accept call".

"MP, this had better be serious." He growls into the receiver.

"Oh, hey. What's four times two again? I kinda forgot."

"You li-"

"Calm down! Jesus, I was kidding. Breathe, dude."

Ryan presses two fingers irritatedly to his temple. Be calm, Reezy.  
It's not like he's been in love with Michael Phelps for the past eight years. No chance.  
"Alright, get it out of your system. What's up?"

"Um, okay. I want you to come….to…"

"Huh?"

"…Baltimore. For my wedding. I'm. um. Getting married on Saturday."

It takes a solid ten seconds for Ryan to process this, think about it, and bellow into the receiver,  
"EXCUSE ME?!"

"Yeah…I know, okay. Short notice. but can you please just do this? Please? For me?"

"You- marriage- wedlock- ahhhh- "

"Yeah. I need you to help me, with, y'know, clothes and stuff."

Ryan can only breathe out and in rapidly. Michael's getting married.  
Who the fuck to?

Oh. To him.

Dan Waldorf.

Six feet five inches of pure, undiluted New York stockbroker asshole.

Ryan had met Dan a few months ago, and immediately hated him from his perfectly gelled hair to the tips of his Thom Browne loafers. Brown patent leather. Those were Ryan's shoes since the day he was born, which was when he saw them at Saks Fifth Avenue Men's Store, and they would never be anyone else's, ever.  
It was supposed to be just him and Michael at dinner. It totally wasn't like Ryan had planned anything. But then Michael's phone had buzzed, and Dan was suddenly right there, all jet-black hair and annoyingly entrancing green eyes. 

"Oh. You must be Ryan. That guy from where, Florida? I never liked that place. I mean, there's really nothing to do there." He had said coldly, looking Ryan up and down.

It has pretty fish, asshole, Ryan wanted to shout in his snobby face, lil' pussy, but couldn't talk except to mutter a "Nice to meet you, too."  
Dan's hand traveled down Michael's body as he talked to Ryan about how pathetic his hometown was, his eyes staring into Ryan's the whole time, a fucking uppity smirk on his preppy little face. It was like he was showing Ryan that he was slowly taking possession of Michael, and there was nothing he could do about it.  
And there really was nothing he could do about it, because now his best friend was getting married and all of his hopes were impossible now.  
He becomes aware of Michael chattering at him.

"Don't worry. Nathan, Matt, Cullen, and Ricky will be there, so you won't be the loner dork in the corner."

"Mike…"

"Yeah?"

And Michael sounds so excited, so hyped up, that it nearly breaks Ryan's heart as he says, "Okay. I'll go."

"YES! I will heart you forever, Doggy!"

After Ryan finishes hyperventilating at the "heart you forever" part of this sentence, he musters, "But only for you. This is not for that Dan guy."

"Oh. Um…yeah, sure."

Ryan's not so sure if Michael knows that he loathes his boyfriend down to his perfect, tiny little pores, but he should figure it out soon enough when he punches the fucker in the balls. In front of Michael, of course.

"Well, see you then. Don't go all bridezilla on me when I get there." Ryan says tersely.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you so much. Oh, and Ry-" 

But Ryan has already hit end call, and he'll never know what Michael was going to say.

 

Ryan arrives crankily in Baltimore on Friday afternoon, and walks out of his terminal to be met(crashed into) by a hugging, clingy, squealing wall of Michael Phelps. 

"Youcameyoucameyoucame-" He screeches, crushing Ryan in his arms.

"Off, pedobear. I kinda said I would, huh?" Ryan chokes out, the pulls back and grins. Michael looks so adorable it hurts. His hair is a complete wreck, sticking straight up as it usually does when he gets up before lunch. Ryan reaches up and tries to smooth it down.

"Bro."

"Yeah…don't judge. I couldn't find my comb."

Ryan snorts. "Don't lie, moron. You just don't know how to handle your coiff. I, however-"

"Puh-lease. I remember you making me buy you ten bottles of Frizz-Ease, the women's version, because you thought it smelled better but were too embarrassed to go and get it."

"Shaddup, do you remember when you were sniffing that bottle of Fekkai and it shot up your nose and-"

"Let's not relive the pain. My feelings are hurt." Michael sniffs and walks away, head hanging low. "Do you not love me?"

Ryan's ears ring, but he continues on bravely, trying his hardest not to mentally record Michael's hips snapping back and forth as he leads him to the car.  
"Bitchy bitchy. Get me to the hotel."

They bicker and gossip and laugh the whole ride to the hotel where Ryan's staying.  
Michael drops Ryan off at the front and hugs him tightly goodbye. Ryan seriously wishes the could stay like that forever, it just feels so fucking right, but Michael breaks away and slaps Ryan's butt.  
"Git yo ass in gear."

"Roger that." Ryan reluctantly picks up his bags, ten Louis Vuitton suitcases, with exaggerated effort.

"Need help? Not that I would, but…"

"You wish, Hulk."

"Kay then, see ya. Oh, and you might want to brace yourself when you get into your room."

"What?! Why?"

"Um…you'll see." Michael grins evilly.

"Huh? No! You can't hold out on me, Mikey!"

"Meet me at seven for shopping and stuff. Bye, honey." Michael makes a kissy face and snickers at Ryan's horrified expression, then climbs into the car and waves as he drives away.

"Bye… love you." Ryan whispers the last words, than turns and lugs his bags through the hotel doors.

The elevator takes Ryan up to floor four, and he inserts his key card into the five-bedroom suite's lock.  
And is immediately blasted to the ground by a ball of Cullen Jones, Ricky Berens, Nathan Adrian, and Matt Grevers.

"RYRYRYRYRY" Extremely deep voice: Matt.

"YAYAYAYAYAY" Black accent: Cullen.

"IT'SREEZYREEZYREEZYYOU'REHERE" Closest to normal: Ricky.

"YAY!!!!!" Extra exclamation points: Nathan. 

After being deprived of oxygen for about five minutes, Ryan extracts himself from the pile of limbs and moves away from the fire alarm(somehow they managed to roll across the hallway and almost down the stairs). He tugs everyone back to the suite and they hastily unpack his stuff, then gossip for almost three hours. Swimmers can never hold anything in.  
But then things turn to that person.

"Oh my god. He was AWFUL." Cullen shakes his head.

"We met the jerk last night. Tried to crush my hand, I swear." Ricky winces.

"What kind of a name, first of all, is Waldorf? Fucking aristocrat." Matt shudders and slings an arm around Nathan's shoulders. "And he was so mean to this poor kid."

"All I did was sit in Mike's lap! I do that all the time! Then this dude, like, pounces on me and flings me off! And he called me a slut and told me to get back to my own country!" Nathan fake sobs into Matt. "I swear, I wonder what he does to Michael when he gets mad."

Ryan's stomach drops, and he swallows hard. "Wow. So he wasn't only an exemplary as swipe to me, it turns out." Ryan hugs Nathan. "I hate him, too, bro. Jerk. Don't let him get to you."

"Yeah. I kind of flipped him off behind his back and mimed shoving a bayonet up his ass." Nathan cackles and fist-pumps.

Ryan, filled with some kind of weird emotion that he can't describe, reaches out and spontaneously bear-hugs all of them. "Guys…" his voice cracks a little. "Guys, you know how I feel about…about Michael, right?"

"Well, duh. You're sooo obvious. At meets, your eyes would be glued to his ass the whole time, then he'd turn around and you'd skitter away to have seizures in a corner. Gotta work on it, Ry." Cullen leans back against the headboard, suppressing a laugh. They've all managed to fit on one bed, and it reminds Ryan of the time when they forced their way into Michael's house and demanded a sleepover, like thirteen-year-old girls. Michae had had no choice but to give in. They'd clambered onto his bed and gossiped and had heart-to-hearts and played ruthless games of Would You Rather (pick your own nose or someone else's? Be spanked or have Google parental controls? Look like a hairless, constipated Michael or a zitty, mile-high Ryan?). Then they'd all promised each other, like thirteen-year-old girls, that they would always stick together, no matter what. Michael had drifted off to sleep while they were talking about what strain of weed is the best, and Ryan had looked down from hearing a small thump to see Michael's head in his lap, arms loosely around his waist. He remembers wanting to kiss Michael so bad, his lips were right there. But instead he'd just shifted so Michael's head wasn't anywhere near his crotch and fallen asleep too.  
He misses that so much. So much.

"Guys…I really love him." For some stupid reason, Ryan's eyes are stinging. "And I…I just can't see him with Dan for the rest of his life. I can't."

"I know. They were so awkward. Literally, they have nothing in common. Nothing. I don't even know why Michael said yes." Ricky sighs. "I think you need to tell him how you feel, Ry."

"You don't know how badly I want to. I just…like, can't."

"Hey, you're going shopping soon, right?" Matt asks. "It's 6:45."

"Yeah, but…no. I'll figure things out. I just can't tolerate seeing him with that thing."

"Ha. Neither can we. Goddammit, Michael…I don't even know with that boy sometimes. But dude, don't worry. We've got your back." Cullen smiles.

"Yeah, we do. Go get that idiot, Ry." Nathan grins and hugs him. Ricky and Matt sandwich him next, then Cullen, and pretty soon they're all mashed together again.

"You guys…" Ryan's voice cracks again, but not because his lungs are being crushed between 800 pounds of solid muscle. He looks at his best friends, all smiling, and he knows that they are behind him on this. Behind him as he sets out for Michael, the thing he wants the most. The only thing he truly wants.

And who is slipping away from him with every second counted down to tomorrow.

Nathan leans in, frowning. "Oh my god, are you crying?"

Cullen whoops and bear-hugs Ryan around the neck. "Guys! He's crying! Jump him!"

And they all collapse into a fit of laughter, Ryan wiping his eyes and throwing his arms around them as he yells to the world and anyone who will listen, "I love you guys!"

 

Ryan climbs into Michael's car at the hotel entrance and is immediately buffeted backward, which seems to be happening to him a lot lately, by a wall of Herman and Stella Phelps.

"Awww, hey guys! Hope your dad's not being too much of a loser, even though that's like, his natural state and all." Herman makes a grunting noise and Ryan sticks his tongue out at Michael, who rolls his eyes and pulls Herman into his lap. 

"False, Lochte. They love me."

"Sure. Hey, where are we going?"

"Uhh…heh. I don't really know, bro. You tell me, 'cause I couldn't care less about all your gay couture shit."

Ryan gasps and mimes having heart palpitations. "Your lack of fashion enthusiasm is killing me over here. Calvin Klein?"

"Fine."

They crawl their way through the Baltimore traffic, and Michael almost crashes once because Ryan decides that it's a good idea to throw Stella at him. But the make it to the store in time, and the salesman has a tux waiting for Michael. The guy sheepishly asks for an autograph, which Michael signs without a second glance. He scurries out, sputtering something about needing to get a measuring tape for "last minute checks".

"Ah, so the great Michael Phelps's measurements are soon to be released to the world." Ryan smirks.

"Dude, everyone already knows." Michael does a terrible Bernie against the wall of the dressing room. "And they wish they had a piece of this. Badoom." Then he smiles his specially-reserved-for-Ryan evil smile that no one else ever gets to see, and starts singing, "I was like, good gracious, ass bodacious…flirtacious, tryin to show faces lookin for the right time to shoot my steam, you know…"

Ryan giggles and joins in, "Lookin for the right time to shoot my steam, you know, lookin for the right time to flash them keys, then, um, I'm leavin, please believing, me and the rest of my heathens…"

They end up breathlessly getting through the rest of the first verse, and the whole thing ends with Michael and Ryan waltzing around the room together and screaming at the top of their lungs, in a Calvin Klein boutique, "IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERRRE!!! SO HOT! SO TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES! I AM GETTING SO HOT, I WANNA TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF!!!"

The salesman comes back in to find them slumped on the floor, shaking, and awkwardly starts to measure Michael once he's recovered.  
Ryan hiccups, then glares at Michael's toned torso. His thirty-two inch waist has always been infuriating.

"Kid, you're getting wayyy to skinny."

"I know, I know. I look like you after you twisted your ankle and couldn't function for a couple months."

Ryan snorts and the salesman finally hands Michael his tux.  
"Thank you for buying Calvin Klein. Feel free to make your way out whenever you want."

"Hey, try it on." Ryan says as soon as the salesman leaves. 

"What? Won't that, like, ruin it permanently or something?"

"Dude, it's a suit. What can you do?"

"Fine…but you are dead if anything happens to it."

Ryan watches as Michael undresses, and tries valiantly to control his body's natural responses. There's all this flexing, stretching muscle right in front of him, and when Michael bends down to pull on the dress pants, Ryan nearly cries, his butt is so cute.

He's a little speechless when Michael turns around to show him the final product.

"What do you think?" Michael pulls at the collar self-consciously. "It's not, like, weird? Snotty looking?" He spins in a circle, craning his neck towards the mirror, then notices Ryan's blank face. "Hey, dude, you okay?"

Ryan's brain is being bombarded with memories at the simple act of Michael spinning around. At just seeing Michael in the first place. They're too much for Ryan, and there's nothing he can do but let them take over.

It was a scorching day in July, and they were sweating around in Ryan's oven of a Gainesville apartment. The phone rang annoyingly, and Michael moaned and crawled over to it. He picked it up and rolled over to lie on his back.

"Hello?"

Before Ryan knew what was happening, Michael went into professional mode, nodding and agreeing and saying "Sure, we'll be there right away."

"Kay, man, let's go. Swimming World wants us for a shoot." Michael says as he hangs up.

Ryan groaned and griped, but managed to pull himself up and into the car.

They arrived at the set fifteen minutes later, which was on the beach. The sun was slowly sinking behind the ocean, and they were promptly rushed into board shorts and slapped with self-tanner.The photographer had told them that the theme was how great being friends with each other was, and Ryan wiggled his eyebrows at Michael and started advancing predatorily on him.

"Jeah, Phelpsicle. It's on." He cackled as Michael backed away slowly.

"Don't you dare call me that in public, don't-" Michael hissed, but yelped in surprise as Ryan suddenly wrapped one arm around his back and one under his knees and picked him up. 

"Perfect! Hold that!" The photographer started clicking away. 

"PUT. ME. DOWN. NOW. WE. ARE. AT. A. PHOTOSHOOT." Michael whisper-shouted as he kicked his legs desperately and squirmed while trying to smile and look comfortable, but Ryan just burst out laughing and hitched him up higher.

"Okay, it would be great if you could spin around." The photographer moved his arm vaguely.

"OH NO, we're fine just like thi-" Michael began, but screeched as Ryan twirled him in a circle. "You're gonna drop me! Down!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

And Michael realized how ridiculous the whole thing was, he was fucking being twirled around by Ryan Lochte, and threw his head back and laughed out loud. Ryan snorted and attempted to compose himself, but failed miserably. "You freak. I wouldn't drop you." he whispered.

But Ryan couldn't say anything more, because Michael's deep brown eyes were suddenly on his, and he was smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did, and he just lost the power of speech.

They finished up the shoot, and got the shots later on Ryan's email. They spent most of the night snickering at how dorky the other one looked. But Ryan secretly added them to his favorites bar. There's one where they're mid-spin, Michael's arms are wrapped around his neck for dear life, legs flying out in front of him, but he's looking down and blushing like he always does when he's trying to contain himself. Ryan's head is thrown back in laughter, and even there in front of the computer, Ryan could feel his pulse pick up.

In that one photograph is the beginning. Their entire relationship. Ryan remembered Michael's impossibly warm skin against his, body fitting perfectly into his arms, and the rush of cold air when he finally put him down. How empty he felt after that, how incomplete he was.

That was when Ryan realized that he was in love with Michael.

And here he is in front of him in a Calvin Klein tuxedo at 9:00 pm, and his smile is lighting up the room, and Ryan wishes with all his heart that Michael will finally see him. That he's better than Dan, that he's worth twenty of him. That he were the one marrying Michael, he loves him so fucking much, and that's just how things should work.

"…you okay?"  
Ryan snaps back to reality and stands up abruptly. He doesn't know what to say, because the way Michael looks right now cannot be described in any earthly language, but he settles for,

"You look incredible."

Then Michael does that thing that only he can do, where his cheeks turn pink and he looks down and then up at you through his eyelashes, and oh my god Ryan is going to kill himself if this goes on any longer.

"Really?"

"Really. You do."

Michael grins and starts to get changed. "Well, since you approve, I guess it's pretty damn good, huh?" He says once he's back in his jeans and v-neck.

"Jeah." Ryan snorts.

"Jeah." Michael giggles. 

And before the know it, they're both whooping like hyenas over this stupid thing, and that stupid word, they don't even know why it's so fucking hilarious anymore, but it just is.

Michael wraps his arm around Ryan's shoulder and leans his head on him, the whole gesture second nature for them now, and they walk out of there like that.

These are the moments that Ryan lives for.

 

Michael hugs him goodbye once again in front of the hotel, and Ryan chooses to think that he holds onto him for more than a few seconds than is necessary.

"Thanks, Doggy. Like I said, I will heart you forever."

"Ditto to you, man." Ryan wishes he could pass this off as a confession, but no.

"Say hi to the guys for me. Hope they're holding up okay."

"Well, they're getting a little antsy."

"Of course they are, ADD little shits. See you tomorrow."

"See you, mofo."

"Such an idiot."

Ryan waves as Michael's car rolls away and thinks of how he's going to go home to that asshole Dan Waldorf, who will probably be fucking Michael senseless in about half an hour.

How that's going to happen every night that they're married.

He sighs and rides the elevator back up to the suite.

Cullen opens the door almost immediately when he knocks, and something must be showing no his face, because he's being ushered toward a bed and tucked in.  
But this soothing effect is promptly ruined, because Nathan, Ricky, and Matt come bounding into the room and vault directly onto Ryan.

"Hurgh!" Ryan gasps for air.

"Guys! Off, now!" Cullen barks at them, shoving feet and arms out of the way to sit on the bed too, crushing Ryan's legs even more. So much for having his back. "Ry's depressed."

"Impossible! What did he do to you?" Nathan pries one of Ryan's eyes open.

"Ugh…it's all my fault. I didn't tell him, and now he's gonna get married and everything'll be over and I'll feel like shit for the rest of my life." Ryan rasps, throwing an arm over his face.

"Don't worry! There's always tomorrow!" Ricky offers encouragingly, but Matt slaps his hand over his mouth. 

"The wedding's tomorrow, dipshit!"

"Mmph!" Ricky licks him and Matt wipes his hand on Cullen, who sneezes on Nathan, who coughs violently onto Ryan's face.

Remembering his state of depression, they all scream "AAAAAH!! WE'RE SO SORRY, RY!" and fall onto him and start squeezing him again. When they pull back(Ryan does need oxygen, after all), Ryan looks like he's about to cry, more from being infected than anything Michael-related.

"I just…don't know what to do." he says when they've all settled down and he's told them about the trip.

"I really think you need to tell him tomorrow." Ricky says seriously. "That's the only chance you'll get, Ry."

Ryan groans. "I can't. I'm too much of a coward. And even if I did, he'd totally reject me. Dan's really hot, no matter how much I hate him."

"Puh-lease! Have you even looked at yourself? Your mirrors are all, like, broken." Nathan scrubs his fingers through Ryan's curly hair. "I mean, look at all this! Waldork ain't got nothin' on you!"

Ryan smiles and ruffles Nathan's hair. "You have a lot to learn in life, my child. And where did you get Waldork...never mind, actually."

"Child?! You're so mean! It's only five years!" Nathan laughs and turns to the others. "I think he's all cheered up now. Commence Formation 1A, men."

"Got it. Okay, we'll just be here if you need anything." Matt says, yawning and curling up in Ryan's side.

"WHAT?! Who said you guys were allowed to sleep with me?!"

"Well, it's just too much work to get up and walk all the way over to the other end of the room." Ricky stretches out on Ryan's feet.

"Yup. Nighty night, Lochtenator." Nathan's head lands on his thigh.

"'Night, broseidon." Cullen mumbles next to him.

Ryan's gripes of protest turn to snorts of how incredibly dumb his whole life is, and they fall asleep in one huge dog-pile of snores and dreams.

 

Ryan wakes up the next morning to harsh light and Cullen shouting at him to put on a suit, they're going to be late, how does someone wake up at 3:30 in the afternoon anyway.

Ryan's wondering why he has to get dressed up and why he has to wake up so early when it hits him.

Today is that day.

Ryan hurriedly throws on something trendy from Armani Collezione, rips Cullen's cologne out of his hand and dumps it onto himself, looks at his hair once and gives up, and throws on his Thom Browne loafers just to piss Dan off. They all pile into the rental car and Matt floors the accelerator, because the wedding's at 4:30.

When they finally get to the church, Ryan's jaw clenches immediately as he sees Dan at the entrance, cordially greeting his guests who he's oh-so-happy to see, how are you, lovely to have you here.

"C'mon, Ry." Ricky grips his shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

"Jeah. Let's go." Ryan grits his teeth.

Dan assumes his specially-reserved-for-Ryan-Lochte smirk when he sees them walking up the steps.

"Well, well. If it isn't you all again. Ryan, nice to see you." Dan shakes his hand in an iron grip that Ryan matches. He hates how he has to look up at him.

"Nice to see you, too. You remember Cullen, Nathan, Matt, and Ricky, right?" He looks back at them to see a constipated-looking Nathan link his arm with Matt and crush his elbow.

"Oh, yeah. Especially you, Nathan. How's that shoulder?" Dan drawls lazily.

"Fine." Nathan grinds out, and Ryan swears he hears a pop come from the direction of Matt's arm.

"Good. Just don't touch Michael in front of me again, got it?"

"Of course." Nathan attempts to smile, but ends up resembling the Devil Himself, or Michael Phelps When Ryan Lochte Accidentally Breaks His Xbox. Matt's expression turns to that of pure agony and Ryan shoots him an apologetic smile.

"Hey, do you know where Michael is?" Ryan quickly changes the subject before Matt's arm is amputated.

"Yeah, I think he's upstairs. Pre-wedding jitters, you know." Dan smirks again. "Also, I think he's exhausted from last night."

"Oh, hope I didn't keep him out too late. Sorry." Ryan says blandly.

"No, it's not that. It's just, you know, there are other things to do on the night before your wedding. You get me?" Dan's snarky smile rubs this disgusting remark into Ryan's face and stuffs it down his throat. If ripping a person in half wasn't illegal, well, then…but Ryan tells himself that he needs to keep calm or he'll be kicked out.

"Well, um, I guess we'll be inside then. Bye." He starts making his way inside with the others.

"Bye. Oh, and Ryan?"

Ryan slowly turns around. "Yeah?"

"Nice shoes."

Ryan nods and gives Dan a smirk of his own. Loser.

"Thanks."

Ryan's a bit intimidated when he gets into the church. Everyone from the Phelps and Waldorf families is there, but Ryan makes it up the stairs successfully with encouraging looks from his friends.

He walks quietly into the first room and sees Michael sprawled out on a couch, the back of his head turned toward Ryan.

"MP, what are you doing up here?" Ryan sighs.

No answer.

"Mike?" Ryan walks over to the couch.

Michael's sleeping. At 4:15 in the afternoon. On the day of his wedding.

Mike! Get up, dork!" Ryan whispers. "I don't want to be accused of assaulting you in your sleep." Because honestly, he probably will be if Michael keeps, well, looking the way he does. He's wearing the tux from yesterday, only it's slightly rumpled. The contrast of his dark brown hair against his very pale skin is striking in the afternoon light, and it makes Ryan want to go murder Dan, because he's known Michael for so long, so much longer than him, and how can that asshole have him while Ryan can't.

Michael shifts and groggily blinks his eyes open. He smiles when he sees Ryan sitting next to him.

"Hey, Doggy." He yawns and stretches his arms out, whacking Ryan in the face, then wraps them around his neck as an apology. "Time izzit?"

"4:15." Ryan takes Michael's hands and puts them back where they belong, because if someone came in right now...

"Meh. We got a few minutes. Can't believe I fell asleep." He shifts so that his head is in Ryan's lap and he's looking up at him. Ryan's heart rate immediately picks up, and he wonders if Michael can feel it.

"Michael." He says, mainly just because he loves saying his name. "More like 'can't believe I'm getting married today and I fell asleep.'"

Michael's smile spreads across his face as he reaches up and adjusts Ryan's hair. 'I…yeah. Got that right." Then his expression turns a little worried. "Oh my god, Ry, this is like, the first time it actually hit me." He sits up quickly, staring queasily at Ryan.

"Um, yeah. Get with the program, dork."

But Michael is starting to look really freaked out, and before Ryan knows it, Michael's hand is on his mouth and he's murmuring nauseously, "I can't do this, oh my god, I can't do this."

"What?! Mike, what's up?"

'Oh my god, I'm going to throw up." Michael shoots up and rushes for the bathroom. Thirty seconds of retching sounds later, he staggers back into the room, skin paper-colored.

"Ryan…" he says, voice cracking, and holds his arms out.

"Michael, come here." Ryan whispers, trying to sound reproachful, and pulls him down onto the sofa next to him, letting his arms go around Michael. "You idiot. You're such an idiot." He rubs Michael's back, and Michael's arms feel like they're cracking Ryan's ribs. "You're…killing me, Mikey. Loosen up a little here." Ryan says to the top of Michael's head, which is buried in his collarbone. He gets a muffled noise that sounds like "No," as a reply.

Ryan sighs and tries to ignore his spiking pulse.

"Michael. You're fine. You look gorgeous."

Michael lifts his head up from Ryan's neck. "No. Stop."

When this doesn't garner a "HA! JK!" from Ryan, as it usually would, Michael asks, "Really?", and he's all huge brown eyes and Ryan…just, argh. He nods, and Michael sits back.

Ryan takes a deep breath.

"Jeah." Michael laughs softly. "Have you ever even looked in the mirror properly? You look absolutely stunning, and fuck, if I were Dan Waldorf, I would marry you too."

Michael's shy smile is so overwhelming that Ryan barely manages to finish his sentence. 

"I would."

"Doggy, you are officially the best person ever in the world." Michael studies Ryan for a minute, like he's thinking something over, with something different in his eyes. 

Then, taking Ryan completely by surprise, he leans forward and gently kisses his forehead.

"I have to go now. See you down there."

Ryan can only nod and breathe. Michael hugs him one more time and then he's gone.

Ryan's hand travels up to his forehead, where he can still feel the soft outline of Michael's lips.

And he decides that he will fucking tell Michael Phelps that he loves him, has been in love with him for eight fucking years, one way or another. 

Then Ryan has a very Ryan Lochte idea. That just might work. Possibly. He could leave it alone at the back of his mind where it's starting to take root, leave it there forever and let things go.

But Ryan knows that this is his last chance, and he's not about to back down that easily.

 

When Ryan gets downstairs, the ceremony has already begun, and Ricky waves him over to the seat saved for him. Michael and Dan are up there together in front of the altar, and Michael turns his head slightly to glance at Ryan and smiles. Of course Ryan would barge in late.

Ryan sits patiently for the first half, but starts fidgeting when Dan locks eyes with him and blatantly slides his hand into Michael's. 

Then Ryan hears the priest finally say the words he's been waiting for.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Ryan feels his legs shakily pushing him out of his seat, sees his friends' mouths drop open next to him, feels all eyes in the room train on him.  
He opens his mouth and his body relaxes a fraction when he feels his voice work.

" I…I have something to say."

The preacher, shocked, nods mechanical assent. "Proceed."

"I…first of all, I'm sorry if I'm offending anyone in this room by doing this. I really am. But I need to do this."

Ryan breathes deeply, closes his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts, then continues.

"Michael."

Ryan sees Michael's stunned, wide eyes stretch even wider, and his mouth fall slightly open.

"Michael, I've known you for…for eight years. We've been through a lot, and, I think that over that period of time, I...you just…I just wanna say that you are amazing, and that it's safe to assume that we know each other lie no one else does."

Michael keeps gaping at him, but Ryan can't stop. Not when he's come this far.

"And Michael, I just want you to know that you are one of the things that I love the most about this life. Without you, I…I don't know where I'd be. But I need you, Michael. And I want to believe that you need me. I know that this isn't what you really want." He gestures to Dan and the crowd of primped, polite socialites that are going to become Michael's family if this doesn't work. "I just want you to remember that you are the thing that I treasure…that I treasure the most in the world. You make me smile and laugh and blush and feel like I'm an hour old, and I lo-"

"RYAN. STEVEN. LOCHTE."

Ryan's speech is slammed to a halt as he registers Michael advancing down the altar steps, a look of pure rage on his face.

"Michael-"

"YOU. You. You…how could you…"

"I can explain-"

"YOU." And then Michael is dashing toward him, and Ryan turns and bolts out of the church, but Michael keeps following him. 

"WHY YOU-LITTLE-HOW-WHY DID YOU-YOU-"

"Michael!" Dan follows him and Ryan out of the church, gets about fifteen feet, then gives up. "I want them tracked. I want to know what's happening." He growls at no one in particular as he strides angrily back inside. "Now!"

Matt, Ricky, Nathan, and Cullen just sit and blink.

"Well, that went well." Cullen mutters.

"That's…his idea of confession?" Nathan says incredulously. "Good god, he really is an idiot."

"He is." Matt follows, shaking his head.

"Things'll work out, I think." Ricky smiles. "They will."

Amid an apoplectic Dan, a wistful-looking Debbie Phelps, Michael's giggling sisters, and affronted wedding guests, they realize that they probably will. They always have, one way or another.

Meanwhile, an absolutely terrified Ryan Lochte is sprinting across the church lawn, headed for his skateboard, which is somehow parked next to the rental car. (Nathan actually brought it, thinking that something like this would happen.) He is in danger of being run down and mauled to death by a furious Michael Phelps, who is slowly gaining on him.

"RYAN LOCHTE! STOP-NOW-HALT-YOU-"

Ryan grabs his skateboard and hops on, immediately pushing off toward the highway for dear life. He looks back and Michael is running in his hilariously uncoordinated way, flailing his long arms and legs. Ryan almost cracks up, but then remembers that he's about to become a homicide victim, and thinks better of it.

"OH?! RUNNING AWAY, ARE WE?!" Michael shouts breathlessly. His eyes find his niece Taylor's pink tricycle with the pink streamers and pink balloons attached to it, and he decides that it'll do just fine for now. "WELL, I'M TEN STEPS AHEAD, YOU LITTLE-WHY YOU-JUST YOU WAIT-WHEN I GET OVER THERE-" Michael swings his leg violently over the bike, which is about the size of his hand, and starts pedaling after Ryan.

He follows him down the crossroads, amid honking and swearing from the rude Jersey drivers who have filtered off the highway.

Ryan pulls off into a back street, letting the skateboard take control.

"Don't fail me now, Dwayne Michael Carter Jr." He says to his beloved instrument of life or death.

He takes a moment to glance back, and nearly has a heart attack.

Michael is chasing after him on a neon pink bike with balloons with hearts on them and sparkly streamers hanging off it, screaming obscenities at him and looking positively apoplectic.

Ryan whimpers, refocuses on the road, then looks back again, and, seeing Michael vault over a bush, a pool, a dog, and still not fall off(where did the sudden balance come from), desperately pulls a hard right, screeching to a halt.

"Oh, shit!" Ryan's stomach drops as he sees the dead end in front of him, but is comforted slightly by a crab scurrying into a nearby bush. Nearly there.

"OH, SURE! JUST KEEP ON GOING! DON'T MIND ME! LIKE ALWAYS, RUN AND HIDE, LOCHTE! YOU LITTLE-LITTLE-AAAAAAH-" Michael skids around and spots Ryan heading onto the docks of the harbor. He throws the bike down and sprints across the pier.

And suddenly, Ryan's not there anymore. He just somehow camouflaged into the landscape, which, considering his uncontrollable attraction to neon, reflective sneakers, is a feat of Herculean strength. 

Michael is left there, panting and gasping for air, in the middle of the dock, waves lapping silently at the wood around him.

"Ryan?" He calls in a hoarse voice.

And silence screams back at him.

Michael slumps down against a post to sit on the wooden slats of the pier.

For one of the first times in his life, his life of goal sheets and split times and the weight of a gold medal around his neck, Michael doesn't know what to think.

Ryan…he just…

"Oh god." Michael whispers to himself, and draws his knees up into his chest. The Baltimore waterfront is suddenly more freezing than it usually is.

Michael's brain is a rave party of emotions, and word after word and memory after memory keeps leaping out at him.

"Need you, Michael"

"Without you, I don't know what I'd be"

"You are the thing that I treasure the most in the world"

Ryan's warm hand, gently rubbing down his back.

The two of them sprawled out on Ryan's couch at 3 am, battling each other at Halo.

Him trying to make an omelet and failing, and Ryan coming downstairs and turning the whole thing into a huge full-on egg fight.

Ryan's peals of laughter that always seemed to greet him when he walked through his door, whether Ryan was there or not.

All that time, he's been in love… with…

Michael lets out a small gasp, and raises a hand to his cheek, where a tear is sliding down. He didn't even realize it. He didn't see, how could he… One turns into two, then Michael doesn't even know why, but he sobs out Ryan's name, tipping his head back and looking at the sky for an answer, for anything.

Then Michael looks around, for what, he doesn't know, but he's really crying now, and Ryan is there.

Ryan inhales sharply and prepares to bolt. He's so close to Michael, so close that he could reach out and kiss him right now.

Then Ryan sees the light reflecting off Michael's cheeks, and there are tears coursing down them.

It's in his natural instincts to comfort and protect Michael, no matter what, even if he would be harmed by doing it, so that's what he does.

"Mikey?" Ryan sits tentatively next to him, studying his face closely. Michael looks like he's not sure what emotion should be seen on his face. Michael wipes his cheek and tries to smile. 

"H-hey, Doggy." he ends up hiccuping back a small sob, and Ryan just can't handle this anymore.

"Michael." Ryan breathes and gathers him into his arms, feeling Michael's head rest on his shoulder.

"Ry, I'm so sorry, I just-" Michael pulls away to look at him and immediately feels fresh tears build up behind his eyes and start to roll down his face. " I-didn't, Ryan..." He feels himself being held close again. 

"Shh, you're fine, this is my fault, I ruined everything. I should be the one apologizing." Ryan feels the shoulder of his button-down become soaked. Michael shudders and sobs a little into his neck. "Michael, it's fine. It's okay." 

"No, no, it's not, I-Ry." Michael whimpers into his shoulder. 

Then Ryan finally does it, whispering into Michael's ear what he's wanted too say for eight years.

"I love you, Michael."

Michael stiffens, and Ryan is forced to let go of him as he stands up abruptly. Ryan's throat closes, stomach dropping, and his heart pounds in his constricting chest.

'I...Ryan, I need to go now." Michael's eyes are full of pain and something else, something Ryan can't place. "Ryan, I…I'm really sorry."

Ryan sees Michael's body turning away from him, and goes for it.

This is it.

"Michael…Michael, wait." he wraps his hand around Michael's wrist.

Michael turns around slowly, and his deep brown eyes meet Ryan's blue ones. Ryan steps forward, and he can see the gold flecks dancing and setting off the light, his own reflection in them.

"Michael." Ryan says his name because it's the most beautiful name in his life right now, and he never wants that to change, ever, and he takes Michael's hand.

"Will you marry me?"

 

And with that, Michael bursts into sobs, hand flying up to cover his mouth.

"Michael! Oh god-" Ryan lunges forward to envelop him in another hug. What did I do?! Oh my god, what the fuck is happening? "Michael?! What's wrong?"

This triggers a chain of wails from Michael, who has his eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling down his cheeks, hands are twisted in the front of Ryan's shirt.

"You...you...marry-" Michael chokes, then sobs again and drops his head onto Ryan's shoulder. Everything's just spiraled out of his control now.

He's Michael Phelps, The Greatest Olympian Of All Time.

He's sobbing on a dock in Baltimore, the sun setting behind him, and he is clutching Ryan Lochte with a death grip for the sake of his sanity.

And Ryan Lochte just proposed to him on the day of his wedding.

"Oh god, Ryan." He grits out into Ryan's neck. "I…"

"Michael. Look at me." Ryan takes a chance and tilts Michael's chin up gently with his thumb.

"I think I'm going to ask you one more time."

Michael lets out a little gasp and his face scrunches up, hands coming up to hastily wipe away new tears, but Ryan stops them. He brushes them away, and cups Michael's cheek in his hand. Michael hiccups again, and wraps his hand around Ryan's the only thing anchoring him to the earth right now.  
Ryan presses his forehead to Michael's and strokes his cheek slowly.

"Michael."

Michael, who seems to have calmed down a little, nods and squeezes Ryan's hand tighter, his lips brushing over Ryan's fingers.

"Michael Phelps, will you marry me?" he whispers.

Michael inhales sharply, and a shadow of doubt creeps into Ryan's mind.

But it fades away as he hears Michael murmur the word,

"Yes."

Michael lets out a small sob, his voice breaking, then laughs through his tears at Ryan's stunned face, at the ridiculousness of it all. At how he never wants anything else, nothing other than this man right here in front of him.

"Oh my god, Michael…", and suddenly they're both laughing and crying, and it's just so right.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Ryan, yes." Michael whispers breathlessly, and turns his head slightly to kiss Ryan's palm, pressing closer to him.

"Michael, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I love you-" But suddenly Michael's kissing him, his lips are soft and Ryan's done for. Michael wraps his arms around Ryan's neck, and feels his arms slide around his waist and he just never wants to let go.

"I love you." He laughs and cries all at once. "Holy fuck, I love you, Ryan."

"Dude, please just tell me this is, like, real." Ryan chokes out, his eyes stinging.

"I seriously think it is." Michael kisses him again. "I think it is, Ryan."

"Michael…" and Ryan's voice is really cracking, "I want you to know that I…I just….Jesus. I love you."

Michael laughs his laugh, his laugh that always lights Ryan's heart on fire. "Love you too."

Ryan takes Michael's face in his hands, his eyes on Michael's, suddenly filled with awe. He doesn't care that he probably looks and sounds like a cheesy idiot, but he just needs to confirm.

"Michael…are you really, like, here? Is this…really happening?" 

"Yeah…yes, Ryan. I love you. I love you." Michael's hands float up to hold Ryan's as he laughs softly, letting his forehead touch to Ryan's gently.

"You sure? Forever?" Ryan whispers, his lips hovering over Michael's.

"Yeah. Forever." Michael smiles and closes his eyes as Ryan's hand moves over his cheek.

Ryan leans in close. "Well, then," with each word, he presses a kiss to Michael's lips, "Forever's a long time. We've got a lot of things to do, places to go, stuff to see."

Michael laughs against Ryan's mouth. "That's true. But I think we can manage."

Ryan looks into Michael's eyes.

And he knows in that moment that they will be fine, that somehow, everything will work out, and Michael really will be his forever. He can't help but let the smile spread over his face as he pulls Michael closer and kisses him.

"Then we'd better get started."


End file.
